


Peanut Soup and Fufu

by DangersUntoldHardshipsUnnumbered



Series: The Soldier and The Spy [2]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 12:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13926717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangersUntoldHardshipsUnnumbered/pseuds/DangersUntoldHardshipsUnnumbered
Summary: Okoye, it turns out, is a very good cook.





	Peanut Soup and Fufu

Okoye doesn’t have to cook for herself, but she likes it.  She likes that her hands which are so good at warfare can make something to sustain a body instead of breaking it.  She doesn’t always have time to do it, but on nights when she does, she enjoys using the strength in her muscled arms to pound the boiled cassava into thick, white dough.  She enjoys the smell of simmering peanut soup, and the way the thick, tawny liquid coats the spoon when she stirs it.

She enjoys most of all how surprised Nakia was at the idea that she could cook.  She likes being able to surprise Nakia. She makes these things the way her father did.  She knows them in her sleep. 

And she enjoys when Nakia comes over to share it with her.  She hears Nakia’s soft footsteps in the hallway, inching toward the kitchen.  _  She is trying to be quiet, _ Okoye thinks with amusement.   _ She means to sneak up on me.   _ Okoye knows that if Nakia were trying very hard, she would be nearly impossible to hear.  She is one of the best spies Okoye has ever known. She waits till she can hear her just a few feet behind her.

“You are like an elephant on these floorboards,” she teases, stirring the soup for a moment.  She does not turn around. “And you breathe louder than a war rhino.”

Nakia slips in behind her, slides arms around her waist, and starts snuffling and breathing loudly into her ear.  “I  _ am _ a war rhino.”

“You are a very small rhino.”  

One of Nakia’s hands snatches the spoon from Okoye and disappears.  Okoye finally wheels around. Nakia is laughing, her eyes sparkling.

“Give me the spoon, Nakia.”

“You called me small,” she responds, holding the spoon away from Okoye and pretending to look hurt.  Her pretty lips are curled in a silly pout. 

“You  _ are _ small,” Okoye insists.  “Give me back the spoon.”  She darts toward Nakia, who dances backward a little.

“No.”  

They begin a little circular dance in the middle of the kitchen, Okoye lunging after the spoon and Nakia slipping just out of her reach.  “You are going to make me burn that soup.”

“If you cannot catch me, it is not my fault.”  She holds the spoon behind her back, daring Okoye to grab for it.

Okoye does.  She gets her arms around Nakia’s waist and thinks she’s got a grip on her, but Nakia is too quick.  She tosses the spoon over Okoye’s shoulder and it lands in the pot of soup with a splash. Okoye shakes her head, and since she has arms around Nakia anyway, she draws her tight against her chest, kisses her deeply, and then nips at her nose as she pulls away.  “Go stir the soup, little rhino,” she whispers. Okoye does not particularly want to let go of her, but she also does not want to burn dinner. Nakia kisses her chin and slips away to do as she was asked.

They spend a few minutes together in silence; Nakia stirs the soup while Okoye is wrapping the fufu to let it set into the lovely, starchy cakes that will taste so delicious with the soup.  The city’s pulse drifts in through the window, its music, and the perfume of the evening. The light shifts from the deep reds at the end of the day to the cool blue of the interior lights. They have not been doing this, whatever it is, for very long, but she is struck at how intimate and easy this moment of quiet domesticity feels.  Okoye leaves the wrapped fufu on the table and comes over to turn off the heat under the soup. Nakia’s finger traces up the back of her neck and up her scalp, tracing the tattoos there.

“How long do we wait?” she asks.

“Not long.”

“Long enough to…?”  Nakia eyes the hallway to the bedroom.

Okoya laughs, and Nakia laughs with her.  “I don’t think so. Besides…” She leans down for a long, deep kiss.  “...I would not want to rush that.” She pulls up a chair and sits down, and Nakia settles into her lap, facing her.  “You understand restraint, I think?”

“Of all kinds,” Nakia answers lightly, and kisses her forehead.  Her answer stirs Okoye a little, and she’s tempted to march Nakia down the hallway to the bedroom after all.  But she stays put. 

“It smells wonderful,” Nakia remarks.  “Who taught you?”

“My father.  He said a warrior should know how to do everything for herself.”

Nakia smiles, thinking.  “That is true,” she agrees.  “But sometimes, it is nice to let someone else do something for you, no?”

Okoye nods.  “Yes, but not because you have to.  Let it be a gift, not an obligation.  Then you can accept it with grace.”

Nakia considers that for a moment.  She closes her eyes and breathes in the smell of the simmering soup.  “I have a confession,” she says when she opens her eyes.

“What is it?”

“I suspect you are a much better cook than I am.  Will you stop sleeping with me because of it?”

Okoye laughs to herself.  “Yes. This is the end, Nakia, my little rhino.”

“That is not a very romantic nickname.”

“You gave it to yourself.”

“I did not think you would use it!”

They laugh, and spend a few minutes lost in kisses.  Okoye sighs. She cannot remember feeling such relaxed happiness with W’Kabi.  Everything she was threatened him, even if he loved it. Nakia seems happily unconcerned with such things.  More than that, she appreciates those parts of her that W'Kabi could not.

“I will have to find some other way to make myself useful around here,” Nakia says, and her voice is so soft it gives Okoye a little shiver.

“Start thinking about it,” Okoye answers, just as soft, her hand settling in the small of Nakia’s back.

“Already am.”

“Good.”  Okoye can smell that the soup is ready, and knows that the fufu must be set by now.  “You should be ready to present your findings later. But for now… let’s eat.”


End file.
